Snow
by S.Zix
Summary: When The Calamity came, so did the white powder, falling from the sky. So did the memories. So did the end.


_I almost feel like I didn't write this. It's a culmination of Ifalna's account of Jenova in the game, Mr. Ite's insight in The Jenova Project (read it), and a response to the prompt, "Snow" from The Wall Market Forums. It was a winter holiday contest that didn't go through, so I thought I'd put it up anyway. The word limit was 3,000, so only the essentials._

* * *

_εγκ 4_

**July 26**

Such grief overtook us all when we arrived upon Gaea's Cliff. The damage to Our Mother is immense, and when one of us begins to weep, we all do, huddled and clinging at wrists, wiping tears. None of us could think but for the wailing in our ears: unintelligible, pained.

Energy flowed from the crater in rivers, making it difficult to breathe. Liska tugged at her collar and swallowed. Then she bade us all form rings of bodies, holding hands around the wound. This made The Planet's cries louder as we focused and prayed to heal her. Liska concluded that collecting free-flowing energy in pockets might also harm The Planet. After all, She can feel us all. Why would She not feel her soul contorting?

In time, however, the landscape changed even more fantastically than from the effects of the Calamity from the Sky. In turn, many of us felt prompted to record. The temperature began to drop, leaving salts of frost on the backs of our hands as we sat at the rim. The earth grew hard and brittle, cracking underfoot. Much of the less hardy vegetation died, its life force seeping back into the crater in response to our calls.

Ifalna prays at the rim, tying Holy around her wrist. Some of the energy she has gathered has begun to crystallize. One might even call it a freeze as the temperature drops, and the shape mimics that of Holy and Meteor, though the color is different. Once the sphere forms, and we harvest it, Ifalna has promised to make a gift of it to me, as I often am drawn to holding Holy in my palm, feeling its energy and Mother's blessing in it. Holy also has a coldness and a violence, which reminds me of the way the land is changing.

More peculiarly, white clots are falling from the sky as it greys overhead. They are as ice, melting, but softer, and when we look at them closely, we are reminded of burning, of the fires we made when we first arrived, which we continue to stir and foster as the temperature plummets. Yet, when it falls, it does not deposit silt or darken the ground as ash does. It remains white, shining, and threatening as Holy.

It is bitter, this chill. Liska says it is The Planet's way of balancing. As energy is amassed in this place, both seeping from The Planet's wound and returning in response to our prayers, the cold grows fierce, the surface dead and inhospitable. I do not mind it. It has a tinge of excitement to it, as the wind scuffs my cheek, and the white from the sky decorates my hair like stone beads. The constant flux of death and life is healing and renewing, and I can almost bear the constant headaches from Mother's shrieking.

**July 31**

Ifalna took Liska to explore the cliffs today. When they returned, they ushered groups of us with them. The wind deafened us as we scaled down, our fingers turning numb and scabbed on the rocks. We huddled and shook on ledges to draw in heat. The stone was made jagged by ice and a frosting from the sky.

At the base of the cliff, we saw steam rising from the ground. Our pace quickened, beckoned by the cold, and we saw a pool of warm water, melting the white powder around it and turning it grey, as if from the ash. The steam we had seen spun in puffs several feet above the ground like grey Hedgehog Pies rolling through the sky.

Liska and Ifalna immediately threw off their heavy burkas and eased into the water. Heat flushed across their skin, and many of us paced the edge tentatively. When I removed my clothing, the cold bit at my breasts and my waist. I still could barely feel my extremities from the trek downward, so I rushed toward the water.

I immediately released a scream and leapt out into the snow. The needles and bites became worse, savage, tearing at my toes. I felt as if my skin molted off, had been peeled off in chunks, but when I looked at my feet, they remained whole.

"You have to take it slowly," Liska said, gesturing toward me as a cautionary tale.

Several others slipped in as Liska and Ifalna had. Watching more carefully, one could notice the grimaces on their faces, but eventually roses bloomed over their skin, and calm eased them. Many of them tried to coax me into the water, waving and splashing, but I refused, remaining robed, shaking my head stubbornly, massaging my feet, and trying to warm myself in the steam.

The groups chatted merrily, washing each other's hair and splashing in the water. Liska shot baleful glances at those who made themselves too loud, stating they should be respectful. The Planet has provided this solace for their love and devotion. Reverence was required.

I remained watching the steam curl and stretch, mingling with the white flakes from the sky. I wanted to scale the cliffs again, to return to the Crater and watch Lifestream crystallize, feel The Planet heal. Instead, I waited, listening to both the voices of our people and the insistent roars of Mother until Liska commanded everyone step out and return to work.

**August 1**

He returned to me from the cyst on The Planet's crust.

Joshua, the one who gave me the child I carried, climbed up the crunching lip of the crater and embraced me.

Joshua returned to The Planet long ago. I felt him pass, his energy coiling from his body and feeding the soil.

But he held me, and he did not feel like Joshua. He did not feel the way all life does, humming with Mother's blessing. Liska called him Leed, her mother, and Ifalna called him Rein, her sister.

Everyone whispered the same thing.

"He does not feel alive."

But neither does rock or water, and we welcome it, and so we welcomed him.

Still, I must remind myself, he is not Joshua.

**August 3**

Many in the group, as we sit and pray to The Planet, refuse to acknowledge Joshua. The headaches and the wailing have gotten worse, and this is the reason many have decided not to trust him. They fear Mother is warning us.

I do not know if I agree with them. I reserved judgment. As a result, Joshua has taken a liking to me. I asked, "What are you?" hoping he would not find offense.

"The Planet provides," he told me. "I am Joshua. I am of the Lifestream, but not in the same way. I am your memories, conjured to comfort you as you work to aid Mother." His voice is like Joshua's in its ease, the softness and cold seriousness are like the flakes from the sky, so I decided to trust his words and take comfort in these memories.

Liska watched me talk to him and hold his hand near the crater, my knees in the dirt and the white, while I prayed. I could feel the energy of her disapproval drawing lines across my shoulder blades.

**August 7**

Joshua is spending more and more time at my side. We stare at the crater, watching the rocks fall down the crags. He listens to me as I tell him my theories on the blessing of the white flakes, the healing nature of frost, and the trees returning to The Planet. He nods and makes me feel respected beyond the others, which I knew Liska would frown upon.

By the crags and Gaea's Cliff over the descent to the hot spring, Joshua gave me a peculiar object, fashioned from what appeared to be white stone. It was circular, and the likeness of a gardenia bloomed on one edge. He placed it on my head, where it rested comfortably. I did not understand the purpose of this adornment, but he took me to a location where the ice is clear and reflective so I could see my own face, and I favored how the stone circle sat atop my head.

I again had a sensation that Liska would not approve, so I buried it in a pile of white powder, the wetness chilling my fingers and turning them blue. Joshua frowned, and I felt guilt at his disappointment, but I did not want to create more of a rift between Liska and myself over a mere memory.

Once we returned to the crater, Liska beckoned me to her side. I knew she would not approve if I brought Joshua with me, so I asked him to remain with the others. He nodded graciously. When I reached Lika's fire, I saw Ifalna huddled with her. She held a red, glittering sphere in her hand, which I recognized as the clump of energy that had crystallized where she prayed and listened at the crater.

I swallowed, trying not to stare too long at it. I felt compelled to hold it in my hand. The strange sense of longing was new to me, and I could feel my stomach flip. I rubbed my arms, and blinked, trying to shake the pang in my gut. I averted my gaze.

"It is yours," Liska told me.

Somehow, I felt that a condition would emerge. When Ifalna did not approach me, she confirmed the instinct.

"But I am concerned with your new attachment to the one who rose from the crater."

"He comes from The Planet," I said, "and he means us no harm."

Liska frowned, her lips curling on each other, disappearing into her mouth. "I have been listening to Her, and I have reason to believe the one who rose from the crater is connected to The Calamity."

I shook my head and felt a strange expression cross my face. The line of my lips became thin, and my eyes felt as if they had hardened to stone in the cavities of my skull. "Joshua is harmless. The Planet has told me _nothing_."

"Don't you feel the increase in—"

"My headaches are _gone_." I admitted it. I said aloud what I was afraid of writing even in these logs. Since my first conversation with Joshua, I had not felt Our Mother's pain. I could still feel my people, but even their energy was waning. I swallowed. "She has told me nothing about Joshua."

Ifalna and Liska's eyes flashed, trading looks, their faces morphing into the same expression. They appeared afraid, as they had when we all first felt the arrival of The Calamity.

"Have you stopped listening?"

For ages, we had speculated that it was possible to close one's self off to The Planet. To stop traveling as we were bade. If we could bear the pain of The Planet's rage and disapproval long enough, we would eventually stop listening. No one knew of a specific incident, and all of us agreed we felt sick at the very possibility.

"Never," I said. "I am as devoted as before."

But I could not hear Her.

Ifalna and Liska closed their eyes, feeling me out, trying to make contact. I could sense their energies, but still they were faint. I could touch their thoughts. They did not believe me.

"Give it to me." The sounds that came out of my mouth were rough, wild as beasts gone mad.

Both Ifalna and Liska opened their eyes, feigned confusion.

"Give me what you promised."

Ifalna licked her lips and shivered as if the wind swept across her cheeks, but there was not even a breeze. Then she opened her hand and approached me, holding the red sphere as it glistened in the light. I snatched it from her and bolted for the sanctuary of my people…

The sanctuary of Joshua and memory.

**August 10**

The white flakes from the sky are darker when I see them now, as if they are turning ashen, as if they have been touched by the spring. I haven't told anyone about this, not even Liska. Not even Joshua.

I fear I am the only one who sees it.

**August 13**

I am changing. It is not the result of a flux of energy, as it is with the land. It is something different, and it is terrifying. My hands are cramped, and the joints which connect my fingers to my palms refuse to bend. The aches in my knuckles are hardening the bones. Skin is becoming jagged and difficult to fold. I bury my appendages in the sleeves of my burka. It is difficult to write.

Yet it is not just my body. The sounds like animalistic snarls seem to always accompany my words, and I feel new pains, flashes of red and black in my skull. Sudden and intense expressions. I cannot tolerate any sense of disapproval from Liska. I imagine tearing at her flesh with the same kind of longing I experienced over the red sphere I now always carry with me. It makes me sick, and I huddle on the ground, tears falling over my cheeks. My face is always hot.

I still cannot hear Her. I can't hear anyone. Cotton.

But I can feel energy radiating from the sphere. It is mine. Companion.

Joshua is also changing. His figure is rounding, skin blue. No one says a word. No one notices. It is something I conjure in my own mind. But they notice me, and the teeth protruding over my lower lip.

Liska told me. "I am worried."

I nearly leapt at her. She put her hand on my shoulder. I moved to bite it, but Ifalna pulled me away.

My people give me a huge breadth. I can feel them turning from me. I can feel my contact with them fading. But I can still command the energy of The Planet. I can call upon ice without conferring with Mother. It is stronger than before.

**August 14**

Today, Liska told me to go to the spring. She insisted it would purify me. She told me to go alone.

I wanted. To be alone. Except for Joshua. But when I asked him to go with me, he refused and smiled. He_ smiled_, but it wasn't warm. It was the same animalistic, savage sense that I held in myself.

My imagination.

But I had the circlet with the gardenia. I placed it atop my head and began my descent to the spring.

My fingers were brittle and sharp, but they fit into the rock like spikes. The descent was easy. I clambered down, feeling my body stretch. My skin turned into sinew. The change became faster as I dropped. Wind everywhere. Pellets from the sky. I felt warm, not numb, content, free.

I didn't want to go back.

When I reached the spring, the steam rose, and I panicked. I tried to ease myself in. It felt dirty, wrong. I dipped a toe. The pain was as before, only worse, and I felt my skin tear.

I can't.

I can't feel anything. Where is my life? I cannot even feel my own energy. I claw at myself, and there is nothing but rock or water. I sat in the white, crying, watching tears turn it grey and ashen, watching the spring infect everything. It is the spring. It has burned through the peace of the cold, of life reconstituting itself, and I am alone.

I cannot feel my people or my way back.

The white from the sky begins falling in gauze, layering the air. I cannot breathe, and I stumble to my feet, tearing through the earth, running as if my legs have doubled in length. I stumbled into an opening in the cliff face, deep in the rock, enveloped by the earth. The white patches do not fall.

Still, I do not feel Her.

**(Some time later, not dated, barely legible)**

I can't rit. Rember words. My name is not in logs. I asked Alexander in red sphere if he knew.

Snow. Now I forget.

* * *

_Review please._


End file.
